


Under the Lectern

by allyoops



Category: Original Work
Genre: Choking on a Dick, F/M, Forced Deepthroat, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Internalized Misogyny, Misogyny, Ritual Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Wife Training, trying to make the best of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27823219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyoops/pseuds/allyoops
Summary: Aurora yearns to prove her ability to please the Leader.Mercifully, he consents to teach her.
Relationships: Charismatic Cult Leader/Teen Girl groomed to be his bride
Comments: 6
Kudos: 92
Collections: Naughty List 2020





	Under the Lectern

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Harpalyke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harpalyke/gifts).



“Now, sweetheart, you know there’s absolutely _nothing_ to be nervous about.”

Mother’s hands adjusting the collar of Aurora’s dress were almost steady enough to suggest she meant it. But as she flattened both palms over the tatted lace, Aurora detected a tremor that betrayed the truth.

She, in turn, smiled reassuringly at Mother and covered both hands with her own.

“I’ll be good,” she whispered, “I promise.”

“There is none who are good,” Father reminded her sternly, but softened the correction with an awkward pat on her shoulder. “But that is why you have us to guide you. And certainly you take guidance well. The Leader will be pleased, I am sure.”

The butterflies in Aurora’s tummy only intensified at that. To please the Leader! That was all she’d ever wanted for as long as she could remember. There had been some kind of life before they entered the Temple, of course; she could even recall it dimly at times, if she tried. She had worn her hair short, in stubby golden pigtails, and she’d had a red tricycle. But all of that was behind her now, and she knew better than to want it back.

Her parents had found the light and truth years ago when she was still a child, and they had been inspired to raise her according to the edicts of the Shepherd’s Temple ever since. And now, on the last day of their holiest month of observance, Aurora would have a chance to prove herself worthy of the highest honor any girl in her position could hope for: she would seek to please the Leader.

Mother knew exactly where to go, which was a relief, because Aurora had never been up here before. Always she had waited on the floor, with the teachables. Only for very specific purposes could any woman ascend to the teaching level, and that purpose was usually to sweep or decorate. But sometimes, on the appointed days, a girl like Aurora would be ushered up to kneel beneath the lectern, facing the back wall, hidden from view of the Leader’s flock. It was to the lectern that Mother took her now, arranging her neatly on the floor, showing her how to tuck in her elbows so they didn’t bang the sides, giving her an encouraging smile and her lace collar one final tweak.

“I know you’ll do very well, lambkin,” she whispered, then swiftly made her retreat.

Aurora, alone under the lectern, tried to calm her racing heart.

She could hear the usual sounds of the congregation arriving and settling onto the floor. There was very little chatter; it was not forbidden, but it was not encouraged either, so most folks exchanged their news before and after entry, preferring to save their time in service for rapt attention to the teaching.

Aurora strained to see if she could hear any particular voice or name; some conversation, maybe, about the role she was here to fill. So many girls had gone before her! She was the last this year, and if she failed to please, no bride would be chosen. Surely some must have something to say about that. But she was too far away to hear anything specific, so she reviewed her devotional litany instead, the rhythm of it soothing enough to settle her heartbeat into a more regular rhythm.

_Make me pleasing in the sight of my Mother, who teaches me grace. Make me pleasing in the sight of my Father, who teaches me obedience. Make me pleasing in the sight of my Leader, so I may not be found wanting in the hereafter when I come into—_

Here her thoughts scattered, dissolving into incoherence at the sight of the Leader’s robes.

He was here!

He stood in front of the lectern and she was so certain he must hear her heart, she nearly bowed her head in shame. But then she saw the pleated opening, and the way he was adjusting himself around it, and Aurora, with the calm clarity which will often befall those about to sit an exam, remembered that she knew exactly what to do.

* * *

Her lessons had begun early last year. Just a word or two here and there at first, of course, as she was on the cusp of being too young to join the class. Some girls were held back until the next year, the better to make them ready. But when she had proven receptive to her role the Leader himself gave permission for her to join the bride class, and it all unfolded from there.

The girls were given review lessons in the precepts and teachings of the Temple. They recited their devotional litanies and learned the role of wives. Some of it was ordinary enough, the things they all saw their mothers do and learned to do themselves, but some lessons were more sacred than that. In the course of these holiest teachings, the girls were given objects meant to help them in pursuit of their goal, very strangely shaped and even frightening, sometimes. But always there had been clear instruction from the wives appointed to teach them, and with time and effort and minimal physical chastisement, most girls had come to understand that there was no rejecting the honor bestowed on them once the Leader had chosen them to wed in the winter ceremony, and to possibly even become his own.

For the Leader ordained all weddings, but had not yet orchestrated his own. He was waiting, everyone knew, for the right woman. The one sent to him by the Almighty, who would follow him in perfect submission and be an example to all the rest. But such a wife had not yet been found, and every girl always hoped that the wife he sought might be she.

Aurora, everybody said, was a very quick study, though one of the youngest in the class. She had first been so certain she’d never get her chance, that one of the more advanced students would win his favor before she even got to try, but one by one the older girls failed out, and she began to nurture hope.

“They’re too squeamish,” she overheard one wife say in troubled tones, not many months before. “He won’t have them if they’re squeamish. Oh, a little flinching and flailing is expected, to be sure, but what will become of a girl who won’t accept her place? It’s very concerning. He says he does not hold it against us, but my husband is concerned. My job is to make a ready bride, and what have we got to show for it? Shouldn’t wonder if we were even demoted. Yes, I will own, my husband is very concerned.”

Aurora had not repeated this conversation to anybody, but she had taken to going after hours to the classroom in pursuit of extra instruction. She had learned to take the funny, elongated objects in her hand and mouth as they taught her, and she struggled bravely to maintain the thrusting rhythm that had been modeled for her by the older girls about to face their trial. She had practiced the postures they made her hold for hours on end. Her knees formed small calluses that were not from prayer, and her devotions took on an almost feverish urgency as, one by one, her classmates met their dismal end beneath the lectern. Wives they would become, but not fit to be a wife of the Leader, and a sorry comedown for every one it was.

Aurora, in anticipation of her own failure, had lately taken to avoiding the Leader’s smile when she saw him, so fearful of the risk that she might disappoint his hopes. But he, so wise and all seeing, had discerned this at once and sent for her last week, receiving her privately in his office for a little chat.

“You seem troubled, dear girl,” he murmured, touching her head in blessing as she went down on her knees before him. “This is unseemly in one so young. What cares can we lift from sweet Aurora, hmm? I would like to help you lighten your heart; what to that end can be done?”

So Aurora, who had been taught from her childhood that there was no burden you could not share with the Leader, earnestly shared her own. She described with warm and loving detail the tender instruction of her teachers, so that demotion should not be a risk to each. She praised the diligent study of her sisters in pursuit of holy knowledge, and assured him that, though she knew his will was right, they had done nothing to earn his displeasure.

“We only all of us _ever_ want to please you!” she said passionately, staring up into his kindly, handsome face. “We are working so hard to do so. But I do not see what hope I have, if students so much wiser and older and I have . . . have failed.”

Her voice broke a little at the end, for she could see her own failure as surely as if she were already kneeling on the stage. Then she looked up, and she saw the joy on the Leader’s face, the deep and remote pleasure he sometimes showed when he was giving them his lesson, and she knew that he was not angry with her yet.

So that was all right.

“Dear girl,” he sighed, his hand on her head increasing in pressure, so that she was forced to bow. “I wish you had come to me sooner. I could have set you aright . . . but here. See? I will show you, and it will be nothing to trouble you further.”

So saying, he guided her around to where the old fake-wood-panelled TV set sat on a battered metal cart. The wheels of the cart could be unlocked, once upon a time, to push it into a different room, but the mechanism had rusted long ago and so it sat, stagnant, in the corner of his office.

TV was forbidden the common students, of course, but the Leader was allowed special privileges for the pursuit of his great ministry, and the TV and VCR setup in his office was one of these. Aurora felt a trembling thrill as she realized that she was to be permitted to join him in this privilege, and she sat up a little straighter on her heels at the thought.

The Leader manipulated the screen and attached device with no difficulty, and then stood back by Aurora’s shoulder so they could view the screen together.

When the image resolved from static, Aurora at once recognized the teaching hall, but viewed it from an angle she had not seen before. The filming appeared to be taking place from the corner, in about the same location as the large potted plastic plant. The lectern was clearly visible from here, as was the audience, and beneath the lectern knelt—

“Cathie!” cried Aurora, much pleased. The eldest girl in their bride class, Cathie had missed out on being in the previous year’s instructional group by mere days and had wept prodigiously over her loss at the time. Now she knelt, fidgeting, in a space much too small for her long-limbed frame, and had to hunch over so far she was nearly leaning out of it altogether.

“Shh,” murmured the Leader, his hand stroking absently at the top of Aurora’s head. “Just watch.”

So Aurora immediately fell silent and watched as the Leader walked into the view frame a few moments later. The angle of the camera meant his body did not completely hide Cathie from view, but left her face visible as he came to stand before her. Then his hand moved to the front of his robe, something was adjusted, and—Aurora squinted. Why, how extraordinary! One of their teaching tools appeared to emerge from his robe!

Cathie, very well taught, did not quail at the sight of it but at once took it in her mouth and worked proudly upon the device. Up and down she went, and Aurora nodded her head in time with Cathie, unconsciously adopting the same rhythm in approval, faster, and faster until—

The Leader on screen stiffened and seized Cathie by the back of the head, bearing her down on the teaching tool in the way all the girls in class hated, but understood they were to master if they hoped to pass from the class into the trial beyond. Cathie took it bravely, and Aurora admired her for it. And it had happened so quickly! Surely that must bring him joy? She glanced up to the Leader, expecting to see his pleasure too, but he was frowning instead.

“Too greedy,” he proclaimed, and advanced the tape to the next session.

“Becka,” Aurora murmured, and was pleased to see Becka did not look uncomfortable in the lectern at all. She was much tinier than Cathie, and had to rise up on her knees to take the Leader’s robe device in her mouth. She lasted longer than Cathie had, too.

“See how she begins as she should?” the Leader instructed, gesturing with the remote. “Slow. Seemly. Maidens are not grasping, Aurora, that would be immodest.”

Aurora nodded earnestly, absorbing the lesson. But modesty, it appeared, could be carried too far, for Becka seemed to falter not long after that. The hard press of the device into the back of her throat made her jerk and twitch, until finally she did the shameful thing and came off it entirely, making a bitter face and wiping at her tears.

Aurora felt a twinge of sympathy for Becka, since she had certainly done something similar her first few weeks of learning that lesson, but she perfectly understood why this performance had not been pleasing to the Leader.

“She should not have refused to receive it,” she said gently, naming her sister’s error, and the Leader nodded, pleased.

“Quite right. Now, the next one.”

Lucilla actually did very well, but she was crying all the time, and the Leader said this was a refusal of its own. And the next girl had rushed again, ending the lesson before the Leader had barely begun his. Greed, Aurora now knew, was not permitted in the performance of this duty. One must let the Leader’s Lesson run its course, and allow him to set the pace of their union. She absorbed the lesson, filing it away for future use, and continued to watch.

One by one all of her classmates, sisters in the studies of a bride, failed their tests. It was distressing to watch, for Aurora had admired and loved learning with these girls, so to see them so lacking in their performance under trial was a great sorrow. To her, certainly, but also, she could see, to the Leader as well. He wanted them to succeed! He loved his girls so well, and they had all let him down. It was so unfair!

Aurora was weeping softly by the end of the film, when the great disaster of two weeks previous was shown in a detail she had not seen before: little Emma Pringle so forgot herself as to try to flee, and had to be held down until she could be forced in place back under the lectern. Aurora at the time had assumed Emma had returned to assume her rightful place more willingly than that, but it seemed Emma had in fact been tied hand and foot and the device aggressively shoved down her throat until the conclusion of the Lesson.

“Oh,” sobbed Aurora, “oh, how could she?! It’s wicked, too wicked, I don’t understand.” She looked searchingly, tearfully, up into the face of her beloved Leader. “Why would they not receive you? They should rejoice to! We all should! Please, help me, I don’t understand at all.”

“Sweet child,” the Leader sighed, and placed both his hands on her shoulders. “I would that I knew. But the frailties of women are a mystery to men. We do not possess your weakness, and can only look on in wonder as you succumb to it. We guide you, of course, and seek to master your impulses to the good, so that you may be blessed for your obedience and thus attain glory. But as you yourself can see, even the greatest among us are thwarted by the rebellion and wickedness which lurks in the hearts of all.”

Aurora went quite white with horror at the implication of this last word.

“Even me,” she whispered. “Oh—oh, I _knew_ it! Even me.” And she wept freely into her hands, mortified to think that even with all her training and will to succeed, even with the virtuous guidance of her teachers and the support of her sweet schoolmates, all of them so modest and tutored in the word and the ways of the Leader, she, too, must surely succumb to this terrible frailty of spirit and soul when the moment of trial was upon her.

But the Leader did not scorn her. He did not scold her for her tears or despise the weakness she showed in that moment. Instead he fit one great, strong hand beneath her chin, and bade her lift her tear-stained face so that he could gaze upon it.

“Dear child,” he said, “have you so soon forgot my role in all this? I am your leader, after all. Indeed I am the Great Leader! Sent by the Almighty, guide over all. I know of you all that I should. I know your mother is quiet and sweet, an example in modesty and virtue. I know your father has great strength of character, and leads his household as all men should. He disciplines you as warranted and brooks no rebellion, and I see the work of his character, and the influence of the wife he leads, in the character of my dear little Aurora.”

Aurora could hardly believe her ears. Praise, from the Leader? And abundant praise, too! She was not worthy, and yet . . . and yet she longed above all to believe.

“Do you know,” he said, “you are the only girl out of all your bride class who came to me with these fears? The others shared fears much the same but they were not forthright. They sought to suppress and conceal. But you, sweet child! You are humble and seek only to do good. You came to me in your frailty because you did not wish to fail. Not for your own sake, no, nothing so prideful. But you did not wish to fail _me_. And that is as it should be, Aurora. I am very pleased, you see?”

He stood back and her keen eye saw the slight distension in the front of his robes, the dark green flowing garment trimmed with black, white and gold, so handsome and rich for weekday wear. The fabric stood out stiffly in a place just below where his belt would be, and she watched in wonder as he parted a special fold that had been set in the robes so that a new teaching device stood forth.

It was not plastic or glass, like the ones they used in class. No, this one was living flesh, proud and strong and warm. _So_ warm, Aurora was sure it would be. She could not wait to taste it. And—she looked up with a gasp of wonder, of understanding newly gained—it was attached to her own dear Leader! It was a part of him!

“It is not a teaching device,” he said, as if divining her thoughts. “It is the instrument of trial. The final test for brides.”

It was unthinkable. It was incredible. She was so overcome to be in the presence of something so holy, Aurora hardly knew what to do. Fortunately the Leader was there to guide her.

“Put your mouth on it, Aurora,” he said huskily. “You wish to please me? Very well then. Come forward and begin to learn.”

So Aurora had put her mouth on him, and her final week of bride training had begun, privately, in his office, where he summoned her every day thereafter. And she thought, though she hoped it were not prideful to think so, that she had done very well indeed.

* * *

All of that week, every lesson, every moment, had led up to this one. Aurora knelt under the lectern where her mother had placed her, and adjusted her collar. She saw the special fold in the leader’s white teaching garment, and she reached boldly forth—but not too boldly, for the Leader despised immodesty. She had to tremble slightly, as if in fear, and hold back, but not too long, for refusal was a sin as well—to part the special place and draw him forth.

He was filming this, she knew. Her failure or her triumph—he would record it either way, as he had done her lessons this week. She watched the tapes with him afterward, accepting his critique, learning from the times she had not done quite right and returning her mouth to his flesh with desperate zeal to do ever better, until she heard his words of praise.

The lectern that shadowed her form hid her fear and trembling from all but the Leader, and she was glad of it. Aurora felt his gaze on her while he spoke, but she dared not look up until he bade her, a finger light and gentle under her chin, reminding her how sweet it was for a man to see a girl lift her eyes to him for guidance while her mouth was full of the richness of his teaching.

Richness, of course, was perhaps too strong a word. The instrument of great trial offered by the Leader was his flesh, and so of course it was right and good to receive it, but Aurora secretly worried she might be bad for disliking, on some level, the taste. He was hot and hard in her mouth, and she tried to prize his strength and take the thrusts with good grace, but she was very glad the Leader liked to hear her gag. Even the holiest of maidens could not have helped a retch or two, with such a pole of flesh poking ruthlessly into the back of her throat.

“. . . and submission to authority,” the Leader informed the crowd, his teachables, his students, all of them hearing the greatness of his word while Aurora ministered so devotedly to the needs of his flesh, “is the holiest of attitudes that any may display. I model this submission to you daily, my students, when I humble myself to the edicts of the Almighty and relay His divine will to you, for all to hear.

“You, men! Leaders in your homes, over your wives and children, you model this submission to authority when you hear my word and heed it, taking these teachings into the walls of your dwellings and apply them there.”

Aurora choked, slightly, on the deeper thrust of the fleshly intrusion, but she steeled herself to brave the final stages of the trial. By now she knew the signs.

“And you, women. Wives and mothers, submitted to your husband’s guidance, you show your children and sisters in study how sweet obedience looks when it is practiced in its purest form. Let none who look upon you find any cause to condemn the absolute totality of your submission to he whose authority under which the Almighty, and I, have placed you.”

Aurora thought of the possibility that she, above all, might have the privilege of calling herself wife to the greatest man she knew, and her vision swam with the promise of holy glory—or maybe that was only the oxygen deprivation that came of bearing the great thrust and length and girth of her Leader’s almighty presence in the very back of her throat.

It was all so thrilling, she could hardly breathe.

“And children.” The Leader’s tone was honeyed now. Hollow, too, as if from a great distance, coming down from the rafters, Aurora still impaled to the neck on his flesh, unable to escape the comparison to the voice as one ringing from on high. “Dear little ones, gathered so tenderly under your mamas’ guidance, hers to teach and rear for too short a time—yes, mothers, I know this! What a blessing and a burden to see these little ones grown and fled into the lives the Almighty ordains for them. Sons who clung to your apron strings ascend too soon to manhood, in which estate the example their fathers have set becomes a template for their leadership of each sweet new bride. And daughters! Precious blossoms, spotless virtue guarded so jealously by their papas, their gentle grace and femininity emulated by their mamas, trained up in their last year at home by the bride school in the way they should go.”

Aurora was very far away, now. She twitched and fluttered on the impalement of the great thing inside her. She was only an adornment for the tool itself, her throat a vessel for the Leader to use, her senses swimming, spiralling, swirling.

And still he spoke.

“Most will find fulfillment as wives of men under my teaching, and none should scorn them for it. It is a good and holy estate, and the temple wedding that follows here next week will see many girls new brides made. We will rejoice that this is their calling. But next week will be special for a new reason, too.”

He was _thrusting_. Aurora stirred herself back to sense at the awareness of this change.

The Leader had never thrust. Not once in any video she had watched with him. Only ever in the quiet of his office, at the end of his instruction, had he thrust into her throat and told her what it meant.

“Next week,” said the Leader, “I will lead the marriage service, and be subject to it, too.”

Oh, Almighty! Aurora’s vision exploded in white sparks of joy—pain? No, _surely_ joy—as the precious thing he was about to say came bearing down on her almost as ruthlessly as the device of the final trial.

“For it is my greatest honor to announce to you today,” he jammed it deep, farther than he had ever done, and she took it, tearfully, mindful of the honor, of the privilege her new life under his leadership would be, “that I have chosen to name as my bride—” the flesh trial was leaping inside her, spurting, spilling the thick, bitter, holy offering down her throat— “Aur—”

He did not actually say her name. He cut himself off, finishing in a deep, choking gurgle of his own, cleared his throat, and stepped back from the lectern. Aurora collapsed, gasping, beneath it.

“My little bride,” he said tenderly, and extended a hand to help her stand, knees wobbling, and turn to face the congregation.

She so forgot herself that she opened her mouth to speak—only to thank him, of course, nothing more immodest than that—then discovered that he had so violently used and abused her throat that it was temporarily unequal to the task. She could only utter a painful, grateful croak, then quickly seal her lips and bend to kiss his hand instead.

“Another lesson,” the Leader said fondly. “A good thing for a wife to learn, is it not?” He turned to invite his followers to see his humor, and join him in laughter, before he turned back to his newly affianced bride and rested his hand on her head. “Silence and submission are all I ask in the woman I lead. I would not choose a woman incapable of either, but I believe, dear heart, that you have the ability to offer me both.”

Aurora lowered her tear-shimmering gaze, chastised, blessed beyond measure, and smiled.


End file.
